


A Little Night Musing

by cynical21



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 17:13:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2158671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynical21/pseuds/cynical21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the return to Naboo, deep thoughts, dark brooding, and decisions made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Night Musing

**Author's Note:**

> Only slightly AU, in that I choose to believe that Qui-Gon should have been apprenticed to Master Yoda, instead of that horrible abomination we meet later in the trilogy.
> 
> Warning (again) - I wouldn't know light and frothy if it bit me, so don't waste your time looking for it here.

A LITTLE NIGHT MUSING

It appeared that, after the Queen's revelation concerning her plans for contacting the Gungans, no one aboard the Nabooian vessel had very much to say. Naboo was still a full eleven hours away, and the prospect of the days ahead lay heavy on the consciousness of the ship's company. Conversations were muted, and solitude appeared to be the order of the day.

In the Queen's private quarters, as elsewhere, things were somber, but the rapport between Amidala and her handmaidens had been so carefully nurtured and deliberately encouraged by the Security officials of the Naboo government, in order to facilitate complete trust within the group, that it was virtually impossible to maintain an air of gloom and doom for any extended period of time. Consequently, there was a conscious effort to insert a trace of rebellious gaiety in the air, as she and her companions spoke of their journey thus far, and what was yet to come. Initially, due to the gravity of the situation, conversation was desultory and subdued. But, regardless of the sobriety inherent in the circumstances, the queen and her companions were still teen-aged girls, with all the flexibility and insouciance of spirit so common in the very young, and, gradually, their focus shifted to matters of interest to all young women.

Amidala regarded Sabé with a slightly mischievous smile. "So-o-o-o, Sabé. I have yet to hear from you concerning your little game in the Tatooine desert. I understand it was very . . .exhilarating."

Sabé's grin was positively wicked. "That's one way of putting it."

"Did you know," drawled the Queen, "that your playmate is quite the topic of interest in the Jedi Temple?"

"Meaning?"

Amidala's eyes were warm with affection and a spark of amusement. "Meaning that he's the object of a huge crush for just about every female in the temple, from pre-teen to octogenarian. They all know exactly who he is, what he looks like, when his birthday is, where he goes to meditate, what he eats for breakfast, the size of his trousers, and, quite probably, when and with whom he lost his virginity. In other words, m'dear, he's considered _the_ catch of the Temple, and, on a scale from 1 to 10, your hunky little friend comes in at a nice robust 16.

"Not to mention that he's half of one of the most famous Jedi/padawan teams in the galaxy. Apparently, he and his Master have a successful missions record that's virtually unmatched by any other team. Master Jinn is acknowledged as the finest swordsman in the entire order, and many believe that the apprentice has such fine skills and brilliant moves that he'll one day surpass the Master. I'm told, when they schedule sparring events at the Temple, that even other Jedi Masters make a point of attending. Apparently, their bouts are legendary, if somewhat unpredictable. The last time they engaged in a full-fledged, no-holds-barred match, they managed to demolish two training rooms, a meditation terrace, and a female Jedi's spa area - much to the delight of the group of young female Jedi who happened to be in it, at the time, although I understand Master Gallia threatened to take a bullwhip to the Master and a paddle to the padawan, which leads to another really fascinating area of speculation, wouldn't you say?"

"How do you know all that?" asked Rabé, with a speculative gleam in her eye.

Amidala picked an imaginary piece of lint off her freshly manicured nail. "Captain Panaka made some discreet inquiries for the official records, and, as for the common gossip, I asked some of Senator Palpatine's younger staff members."

"You asked?" Sabé looked as if she'd bitten into something sour.

The Queen carefully kept her back to her chief handmaiden, but Rabé easily discerned the laughter in her sovereign's eyes. "Of course, I asked. I'm the Queen, Sabé. That means I have to be discreet; it doesn't mean I have to be dead, from the neck down."

"Of course, Your Highness," Sabé said, sighing heavily.

Amidala and Rabé erupted with laughter. "Sabé, you are such a perfect target," gasped Rabé. "Would you really back off if the Queen wanted him?"

Sabé regarded her sovereign with a small smile. "Back off? Not in this lifetime." Still, she watched Amidala's eyes as she continued, "You don't, do you? Want him, I mean."

The queen reached over and activated her viewscreen, and scrolled through various viewpoints until she found what she was looking for. The scene in one of the two small observation bays was almost too dark to allow identification of the slim figure that sat within its shadowy confines; almost - but not quite. A stray gleam of ship's light sparked in short, rust-colored hair, and a noble profile was revealed against the panoply of star swarm beyond the portal. Amidala managed a wink for her handmaidens - all except Sabé, who seemed to be preoccupied with private thoughts.

"I don't know, Sabé," said the Queen archly. "That's a pretty impressive package. The body, the face, that adorable accent that fairly shouts 'class', and that cleft chin that just makes you want to pinch it. Not to mention a certain elusive, little boy quality. You know, it just makes you want to . . to . ."

"Slather him with whipped cream and eat him with a spoon," Sabé said drily.

Amidala whooped with laughter. "I wonder if he has any idea what kind of fantasies he generates. Even his walk is sexy."

Sabé regarded the Queen with slightly narrowed eyes. "Looks like you've been paying pretty close attention."

Amidala draped an arm around her chief bodyguard. "Relax, Little Sister, I have no designs on your pretty Jedi. But he _is_ a pleasant diversion for the eyes, and he literally radiates animal magnetism. So allow me my idle fantasies, won't you? Heaven knows, there's been little else to fantasize about on this trip."

"Speaking of fantasies," said Ertaé, with a smug smile, "I heard something very interesting while we were on Coruscant."

"Well, spill it, for heaven's sake," said Rabé. "It's tell-all time."

"OK, but you have to remember that this is all just gossip, so it may be a total fabrication. But if it's not . . ." Her drawn out phrasing was driving Sabé to distraction.

"Are you going to spit it out or not?"

But Ertaé was not to be rushed. "It concerns your little friend there."

Sabé actually growled. "Speak now or else."

"But maybe I shouldn't, I mean . . ."

Amidala fixed her gleeful handmaiden with a hard glare that was more effective than any amount of urging from her fellow handmaidens.

"OK. OK. Just don't blame me if this is just so much idle chatter. Have you ever wondered how the Jedi deal with - um - their - um . . . "

"Their what?" Sabé's patience was running super thin.

"Their - um - coming of age?"

The Queen and her other handmaidens exchanged baffled looks. "What?" said Rabé. "Like in reaching the age of consent? Like in being old enough to drink? I guess they do what the rest of us do. Go into a bar, order a few shots, and see who can drink who under the table."

Ertaé, who was often shyer and less outspoken than her counterparts, looked uncomfortable. "No, not that kind of coming of age. I mean when they, um - when they, er, get . . . "

Sabé heaved a huge sigh. "All that 'um'ing and er'ing can only mean one thing. She 's got to be talking about sex. Puberty would be my guess. Right?"

"Um, right," said Ertaé, with a grateful smile. "Puberty."

"So go on. Tell us." Rabé's grin was huge. "How do the Jedi deal with puberty?"

"Well, as I hear it, they have a sort of 'rite of passage', when they get to a certain point."

"Whoa, whoa, now," said Sabé. "A rite of passage? I suddenly have visions of . . . never mind. What are you talking about?"

"Okay," said Ertaé. "According to a friend of a friend, who works in the Jedi Temple, when a male padawan reaches a certain stage of development - usually determined by his Master - he is turned over to the tender mercies of a female knight or Master, to be instructed and initiated into the mysteries of sexuality, assuming that he wants to be. Girls, I assume, are instructed by males. All, of course, completely voluntary. But, if you think about it, it makes perfect sense. The Jedi are the masters of the physical world of the Force, and there isn't anything much more physical - or Forceful - than sex."

Rabé was open-mouthed. "A brothel. She's talking about a Jedi brothel."

"No, no," protested Ertaé. "Nothing so crude. It's all supposed to be very high-minded and instructional."

Sabé was staring at the dark silhouette still displayed on the viewscreen.

Amidala, who knew Sabé better than anybody, was the only one to see the shadows in the handmaiden's dark eyes. "Daktari for your thoughts," she said softly.

Sabé's smile was almost predatory, but the Queen recognized the unease hiding beneath the flippancy. "I was just wondering how anybody gets a job like that."

Amidala smiled. "Liar. You're wondering what's wrong with him. So am I. I don't have a clue what happened on Coruscant, but it's obvious that something did. He looks like he's looking for a hole to jump in, and pull in after him."

Sabé nodded gently.

Impulsively, the Queen reached out and gave her primary handmaiden a quick hug. "Why don't you go find out? Maybe he just needs a friend."

The handmaiden sighed. "The kind of 'friendship' I'd like to give him he won't accept. Something about it interfering with him becoming a knight. So maybe Ertaé is right. Maybe they 'break them in' in the Temple, so they're not so tempted."

Amidala looked at her handmaiden with a grin. "Sabé, I know you too well to think you're going to accept that. So take some advice. If, by any chance, he is, um, amenable to a little comforting, throw his robe over the viewing lens and lock the door."

* * * * * * * * * * 

Anakin Skywalker had never heard of anything like a domino effect, so the term would have had no meaning to him, but he grasped the concept instinctively, as he watched the shadow against the stars that was Obi-Wan Kenobi, and was, in turn, watched by the still presence of Qui-Gon Jinn. He didn't pretend to understand how he had precipitated a crisis between the Master Jedi and his padawan, but he knew he had, and something within him wanted to dissolve in tears to atone for it. Having never observed the precision and near perfection of a functional Jedi/padawan bond, he had no basis for comparison, but he knew instinctively that this cold, echoing emptiness that seemed to stretch from the one to the other was not the way such a relationship was supposed to be.

In the cockpit, Master Qui-Gon sat quietly, only occasionally moving his midnight dark eyes to meet those of the nine-year-old boy. Anakin had not known the Jedi Master for more than a few days, but he already knew him well enough to sense that Qui-Gon had, for some unexplained reason, erected strong, virtually seamless mental shields around his consciousness. Until now, Anakin had been able to feel the Jedi's warm approval and growing affection for him; now there was nothing - just a sense of vacancy. Anakin wasn't entirely sure, but he thought that the shields were not so much meant to keep Anakin at bay as to conceal Qui-Gon's thoughts and feelings from his own apprentice, who had spent the last two hours seated, almost motionless, in one of the small observation ports.

If Qui-Gon Jinn's shields were so strong as to be unassailable, Kenobi's were completely impenetrable, as seamless as cast duranium. Nothing - absolutely nothing - was getting in or out. The young Jedi sat with his face turned to the stars, and even his breathing appeared to be minimal. But Anakin, from his vantage point in the shadowed sitting area, could see - just barely - the curvature of Obi-Wan's jawline, and, occasionally, the boy saw a tremor grip that frozen face.

The words he had overheard between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan came back to him in the dim silence, and he wondered again how anybody could think that he - Anakin - could be dangerous. But, at the same time, he had heard the icy reserve in Qui-Gon's voice when he spoke to the younger Jedi, and he had seen, in that split second before Obi-Wan had been able to raise those mental shields, that the Master's words and attitude had pierced Kenobi to the heart. He could plainly see that nothing was going to be allowed to leak out through the padawan's shielding, but he knew, beyond all doubt, that, within that emotional fortress, young Kenobi was struggling to deal with complete devastation.

Despite his own weariness, sleep seemed to be out of the question, even if he had been able to ignore the chill that he found so prevalent in the filtered atmosphere. Finally, wrapping his blanket around him like a toga, the boy rose from the couch and moved toward the alcove where Obi-wan Kenobi sat staring into nothingness. He walked slowly, and the apprentice appeared to remain ignorant of his approach. But Anakin knew better. He didn't know how he knew; there was certainly no reason for there to be any communication bond between himself and Obi-Wan, but, somehow, there was. It was very tentative, and almost completely blocked off by the young Jedi, but it was there.

Taking a deep breath, Anakin moved into the alcove, dropped to his knees just behind Obi-Wan, and, with a level of trepidation he would not have believed possible just days before, worked his hand into the clasped fingers of the Jedi apprentice. 

"Obi-Wan," said Anakin, almost whispering, "I'm sorry. Please don't hate me."

For a span of moments that seemed to stretch on forever, there was no response, and Anakin thought that he would die of shame and embarrassment. But then, he felt the barest pressure of cold fingers surrounding his hand. "I don't hate you, Anakin," Obi-Wan replied. "I'm sorry if my behavior led you to believe that. You haven't done anything to make anyone hate you." 

Though his words were warm enough, the young Jedi still kept his face turned away from the boy.

"But I caused this mess between you and Master Qui-Gon."

And it was then, at the use of that name, that Anakin felt the first true touch of Obi-Wan's mind. Tears welled immediately in the boy's eyes, as he sensed the pain caused by his use of that title for Obi-Wan's Master. But it was the most fleeting of mind touches, as the mental shields slammed back into place almost before Anakin had registered their weakness.

" 'S okay, Anakin." The voice was now nothing but the barest whisper. "Get some rest."

The boy hesitated, and then acted on nothing more than instinct. Chancing complete rejection, risking everything, he literally threw his young body into the arms of the Jedi padawan. Instintively, Obi-Wan caught him, and cradled him against his torso.

"What . . .?" Obi-Wan didn't understand what the boy had done, or why his own inclination was to hug the child to him.

Unexpectedly, Anakin felt tears fall on his face, and he didn't know - would never know - if they were his own, or Obi-Wan's, for a small, slightly grungy hand, reaching up and entwining in the young Jedi's padawan braid, found moistness on that strong, firm jaw. "I'll need you, Obi-Wan," said the boy, "and you'll need me. I know it. I don't know how I know, but I do. So please don't turn away from me."

Obi-Wan appeared to shake off some kind of dark lethargy, and lowered his eyes to the boy's face. For the first time, he took a moment to study what he saw there, and noted the fierce intelligence reflected in the boy's eyes, and the strength and determination in the bone structure. "OK, Ani. You got my attention. And I'm sorry that you've been caught in the middle of all this. But everything will be all right. It's just a really confusing time for everybody. And it's not like Master Qui-Gon and I haven't had disagreements before. Sooner or later, it will pass."

Anakin stared into ice-blue eyes, and sensed, somehow, that Obi-Wan had just lied to him. This would not 'pass', and Obi-Wan knew it, but how he knew, or what the circumstances were that would prevent this fissure from 'passing', Anakin could not tell. But he was certain that Kenobi did know.

"You see the future," he murmured.

Obi-Wan's eyes widened, and something dark and dreadful moved within them. "No."

"Yes, you do."

Obi-Wan looked away. "No one can 'see' the future. It's always in motion."

A fine thread of desperation in Kenobi's voice convinced Anakin to drop the argument. "Now," continued Obi-Wan, "it is very late, and you'll need your rest tomorrow."

Anakin, curiously comfortable wrapped in the young Jedi's arms, mumbled, "Can't sleep."

Rousing himself, Obi-Wan managed a small smile, rose to his feet, and carried the boy back to the seating alcove from which he had come. "We'll just see about that," he said softly, as he settled the child into the soft cushions. As Anakin snuggled to find the most comfortable position, the young Jedi laid his palm against the child's forehead, and sent a Force suggestion into the boy's mind. By the time he removed his hand, Anakin was asleep.

As Obi-Wan stepped back, he became aware of a warm presence behind him.

"Nicely done, Padawan," said Qui-Gon Jinn. 

Obi-Wan turned slowly to face his Master. When he spoke, there was no longer any anger or resentment in his voice. There was only acceptance, and a heart-rending weariness. "Maybe you shouldn't call me that anymore." 

"Is that what you want, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon's eyes were guarded, and both Master and Apprentice were painfully aware of the silence of their Master/padawan link.

"I don't think it matters what I want, one way or the other," said Obi-Wan, very calmly. 

"It matters - to me." Qui-Gon reached out and straightened Obi-Wan's padawan braid.

The younger Jedi stiffened, and closed his eyes. "What do you want me to say, Master? So long? Thanks for the memories? Maybe I'll see you around sometime?" It required all the courage he possessed to avoid lacing his words with bitterness.

He raised his eyes - storm gray now in the shadows - to stare into Qui-Gon's face, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't know who you are any more. In the past, no matter what you did - no matter how much you went against the Council - even if I didn't agree with you, I always had your back. And you always had mine. _No matter what!_ "

He turned and started to walk away, then stopped. When he spoke, he didn't bother turning back around, so he didn't see the dark pain that filled the Jedi Master's eyes. "I've still got your back, Master, but I won't . . ." He paused, as if trying to find the right words, before deciding to say no more.

Qui-Gon Jinn managed - somehow - not to gasp from the stab of agony that tore through him as he watched the child of his heart walk away.

Obi-Wan returned to his private contemplation of the stars, leaving his Master to try to find some privacy of his own. Qui-Gon moved to a shadowed alcove in the common room, and sank into a meditative posture, his mental shielding somehow still intact against the storm of emotions raging within him. He was careful to keep his back toward his padawan, and his face concealed in darkness. Any external observer would have adjudged him to be the quintessential image of a Jedi Master, at peace with himself and serene in his contemplation of the universe. The observer would have been wrong.

There was no meditation in progress in the Jedi's mind. There was, instead, the desperate repetition of a single phrase, a mantra that was rapidly deteriorating into nonsense syllables. _In the end, breakable, all bonds must be. In the end, breakable all bonds must be. In the end, breakable . . ._

He knew it; he had learned it at the knee of his own Master, though it had been many years before he came to understand what the little green troll had been trying to tell him. He had never understood it so well as he understood it now, and he had never dreamed that it would have brought him such exquisite suffering. As he maintained, with perfect control, the stern visage that his face always presented to the world, his heart splintered within him. _My Obi-Wan, how can I leave you like this? How can I go, and leave you to believe that I abandoned you? How can I leave you at all?_

Despite the rigid control maintained by his padawan, Qui-Gon could still sense Obi-Wan's emotional turmoil. Familiarity with that particular dynamic mind, plus his own unique facility within the Living Force, combined with the expertise developed during more than twelve years of practicing subtle methods of influencing and, sometimes, protecting that precious consciousness, had given the Jedi Master a "private" entrance into his apprentice's awareness - a sort of mental "back door" that would remain open to him as long as Obi-Wan remained unaware of it. Thus, he felt within himself, the echo of everything his apprentice felt, with the added burden of knowing that he was the cause of the boy's agony. As Obi-Wan's heart seemed to twist and shred within him, Qui-Gon's great strength almost deserted him.  


_I can't. I can't do this to him._   


His love for this boy who was more than a son to him raged against the constraints placed on him.

_Protect him now, you must._ The identity of the voice within him was beyond doubt. _Nothing else have you to give him._

Qui-Gon didn't waste time or breath trying to discern if the voice in his head was real or imaginary. He had long ago stopped questioning the seemingly impossible abilities of his tiny Master. _But this is tearing him apart. How can I allow him to suffer like this?_

_And how would you spare him? Think you that he does not know what lies ahead?_

Qui-Gon's eyes blinked open and stared into the darkness. _He knows?_

He could almost see the slow blink of those crystalline eyes. _He evades truth, for the moment, but he will be forced to see. Better than you. His gifts, remember, are in the Unifying Force. He sees - but chooses not to believe. But belief will come._

For a few moments, Qui-Gon's thoughts were still. _My poor Padawan. How alone he is. How can I not reach out to offer him what he has always expected from me? How can I not at least comfort him?_

_The answer, you already know, my padawan. Or would you choose to exchange places?_

_Never!_ It was the equivalent of a mental scream.

Yoda was, as always, unperturbed. _Knew that, I did. But you needed reminding. No other choices are there. An unimpeded bond between you risks severe and possibly permanent damage to him. This we dare not risk._

For a few moments, both ancient Master and his student were silent in contemplating the stillness in the Force which surrounded Obi-Wan. Thus, when the object of their study experienced his own unwanted epiphany - in silence - it only served to confirm what they already knew, and to intensify the pain the younger Master was enduring . Obi-Wan would never be aware of it, but Qui-Gon immediately increased the level of the soothing Force energy he was sending to his padawan. It would accomplish nothing on a conscious level, but, if the apprentice would only allow himself to surrender to sleep, his rest would be relatively peaceful.

Qui-Gon Jinn had been known to disagree with the Jedi Council from time to time; had even had his share of arguments with his diminutive Master; but had never, until this moment, demanded more information than the "little troll" was prepared to give. _My Master, I ask you now, in consideration of what we have both foreseen, to tell me what it is about my padawan that has always required your intercession. I know why I choose to protect him; he is my Obi-Wan - my heritage - all of me that is worth preserving, and better than I have ever had any hope of being. But what is it that you see - that you have always seen - when you look at him?_

Qui-Gon almost smiled as he 'heard' the tiny Master's sigh in his mind. For a few minutes it appeared that no answer would be provided. _Curiosity! The two of you have run rampant through the Knighthood because of your curiosity! And think not that I don't know that you taught him how to circumvent the Council's guidelines when it suited you._

_You're stalling, Master._

_Special is your Obi-Wan, Padawan. Always special was he. A 'child' of destiny._

_Destined for what?_

_Difficult to see is the future._ That was said with typical Yoda attitude.

_Master, please. This particular future - coming at me like a runaway bantha - has been pretty obvious. What is it you see for my padawan?_

_Very well. Earned it, I suppose you have. But clouded it remains. When or where or how, I know not, but one day your Obi-Wan will be the spark that re-ignites the fire of the Jedi. He will suffer much, and know little joy in his life, but he will be the key to the resurrection of all he believes in. A dark time awaits us, Padawan; he will be the candle which pushes back the darkness, but he must first suffer great loneliness. Mistake it not; death would be easier for him. Now ask me no more-for I know no more._

Qui-Gon felt a warmth swell within him, along with a looming desolation. _The best of us all. You always knew it. But it seems so unfair to force him to go through this now - alone. He is too young, Master. Too young to bear such pain, with no one to soothe it for him._

_The pain he suffers now will shield him from what he would suffer later. This, you know. You must be strong, my Padawan._

There was no question that the tiny Master's pronouncement would be obeyed, for, in the final analysis, in spite of his rebellious nature, Qui-Gon Jinn had always done what was best for the Jedi Order. Fleetingly, he allowed his thoughts to reel back to that double-edged vision which had come to him during the last night he would ever spend in the home he had shared with his padawan for over 12 years. The vision had surprised him initially, for he seldom had visions, unlike his apprentice who had them frequently. But this particular vision had a straightforward clarity that compelled his scrutiny immediately, leaving no doubt that what he was being shown would come to pass. The only question, when it was done, was which version would prove to be reality, for he had seen two different possible conclusions to one unavoidable scenario: either he himself would die during the coming conflict, at the hands of a creature of darkness - or his padawan would. Reaching a decision had required no extended thought at all; he would not and could not allow Obi-Wan to die, and a brief conference with Masters Yoda and Mace Windu had reinforced his decision. The agreement had been unanimous, though sorrowful. Both Yoda and Mace had given him their blessings, knowing that it was, in the first place, the right thing to do, because a Jedi Master's most sacred vow was to defend his padawan, and, in the second place, that he would have done the same even if they had forbidden him to do so. Beyond all of that was the fact that both of them were inordinately fond of Obi-Wan and both painfully aware of the part he would play in the dark future, but that hadn't made them any more eager to say good-bye to their friend of a lifetime. 

In saying their farewells, Qui-Gon had clasped the hand of Mace Windu, and seen tears in the eyes of his old friend. "He'll never know, Mace," he had whispered. "It's killing me that he'll never know."

Mace braced his hands on the Jedi Master's shoulders and regarded him sternly. "He _will_ know, Qui. I swear it."

"You can't tell him. It will just make him feel guilty for whatever happens between now and then."

Mace smiled. "Don't do that. Don't underestimate our Obi-Wan. You know, if Yoda hadn't been so hellbound that he was going to be _you_ padawan, he would have been mine. I'd have taken him right out from under your nose."

Qui-Gon's smile was weary. "Maybe you should have. He might have been spared this."

Mace merely shook his head. "No. The troll - as usual - was right. Your relationship with that boy was just meant to be. What you have taught him, is what will ultimately save him."

With a slight jerk, Qui-Gon returned to an awareness of the moment, just in time to notice one of the Queen's handmaidens move through the semi-darkness of the common room, and slip into the alcove in which Obi-Wan was still sitting. A brief mental brush of the girl's awareness caused a small smile to tremble on the Master's lips. With only the barest of conscious thoughts, he sent a pulse through the unsuspected entrance to his padawan's mind, a seed so tiny it would go unnoticed, but would nevertheless produce interesting fruit.

_Sure are you that what you have done is best for him?_ Yoda sounded skeptical.

_What he needs is a distraction - to keep his thoughts from dwelling on his premonition. Call it my last gift to him._

_No, my Padawan. Your last gift to him, is his life._

_That he must never know! You must not tell him, Master Yoda. It would destroy him._

_Qui-Gon,_ Yoda sounded almost impatient, _how can you have shared this boy's life for twelve years and still know nothing of him? He will know - whether you tell him or not. Stronger in the Force is this child than even you have ever understood. Destroy worlds, he could, which is why eternally grateful we must be that he was always able to resist the Darkside. Don't you think it more important that he understand why you have made your decision? He must know that your love for him survives, beyond time, beyond death. Blocked must be your bond at the final moment, but a message you must leave for him. Tragedy awaits our Obi-Wan, but what comfort there may be must come from you. Earned this, he has._ There was a pause, and then, the characteristic Yoda sigh. When he continued, Qui-Gon almost believed he heard a sense of awe in that mental voice. _Save us, he will._

_You must be there for him, my Master, when I cannot._

_Love him much, you do, my padawan. Take care of him, I will, if the Force allows._

_How do I make him understand?_

_Speak from your heart, Little One. He will hear._

Qui-Gon allowed a mental chuckle to enter their bond. _You haven't called me 'Little One' since I was 10 years old._

The silence was suddenly pregnant with unvoiced emotion. _My 'little one', you will always be._

And Qui-Gon found, suddenly, that he knew exactly what to say to his padawan.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

With fingers that were almost without a tremor, Obi-Wan Kenobi reached out and touched the transparasteel that separated him from the extreme void of space. Regardless of the thickness of the material, the surface was numbingly cold, and Obi-Wan spared a moment to glance over to be sure that Anakin was well-covered against the chill. He then allowed himself a wry observation that he really shouldn't care, one way or the other, if the 'usurper' was comfortable, but, at heart, he was simply too benevolent, by nature, to harbor any real ill will toward the boy. Anakin, after all, had not asked to be the focus of this cyclone of controversy. Master Qui-Gon had managed to create the whirlwind all by himself.

A tremor in the Force grabbed at Obi-Wan's attention, and he managed, just barely, to ignore its siren's call. He knew that something was trying to get through his shielding; he even knew that it was something dark and disturbing. But he just didn't feel strong enough to deal with it right now. So he'd deal with it later. _When it's too late._ With an impatient frown, he ignored that persistant little voice that kept intruding on his misery. _And self-pity_. Anger threatened to swell up inside him, but, like the good Jedi he was, he fought it off. 

For probably the tenth time, he tried to immerse himself in a meditation trance, beginning with the oldest, simplest of Jedi mantras. _There is no emotion; there is peace._ His eyes opened slowly. _Death is very peaceful._ Abruptly, he rose and removed his heavy cape, and moved to Anakin's side. Gently, he draped it over the boy, taking care not to disturb him. _What the phreg is that supposed to mean?_ he asked himself, angrily. _Who's death?_

_You know._ The voice was persistant.

Obi-Wan fought to draw a calming breath. _No._

_Yes, you do. You know._

And, there, in the blink of an eye, was the awful vision he had been so determined not to see. It wasn't particularly clear, but it didn't need to be. The end of it was unmistakeable.

_No. No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no._

The voice was quieter now, having had its way. _You can stop it. You're the only one who can._

The young Jedi returned to his alcove, his heart heavy and bruised. _How?_

There was a laugh within the Force, and Obi-Wan was somehow not surprised to recognize it as his very own laughter. _Don't ask dumb questions. You know how._

And, of course, the voice was correct. He did know. He even thought maybe he had always known that a day like this would come, when the choice would be so self-evident - when all ambiguity would be pushed aside in one razor-sharp crystalline moment that would define the ultimate meaning of his life.

He could live, or he could die, and, by his living or dying, another's fate hung in the balance. Obi-Wan found, suddenly, unexpectedly, that the peaceful center of his existence, within his own consciousness, which he had spent the past two hours trying to find - without success - was now easily accessible. For this decision required no great struggle and no exhaustive examination of cause and effect. This decision was simplicity itself. During the turmoil awaiting them on Naboo, Obi-Wan Kenobi would die, because he could not contemplate the alternative. His Master had too much still to do in his lifetime, too much potential still unrealized, too much wisdom still unimparted. Obi-Wan allowed himself a small sigh; Qui-Gon still had Anakin to train, and Obi-Wan, no matter how injured by the knowledge, had already admitted to himself that the boy's gifts in the Force were so extraordinary that not training him would be akin to blasphemy. So there would be no uncertainty in the choice: Qui-Gon could not be allowed to die; therefore, Obi-Wan must be prepared to step forward and put himself in that place from which there could be no return.

The young Jedi drew a deep breath, and found that all his anger, all his anguish, all his bitterness, was gone, washed away, he supposed, by what was either a growing serenity or a hopeless resignation to the will of the Force. It was a source of comfort to him that the Jedi teachings he had spent a lifetime learning were proving to be so helpful as he prepared to face the inevitable. By finally casting his pain and suffering into the Force, and trusting it to see him on the right path, he was finding the peace that had earlier eluded him.

He still had no explanation for his Master's behavior; he still understood nothing of Qui-Gon's motives in turning away from him. For whatever reason, his Master had made his choice, effectively ending the relationship they had shared for a dozen years, and if the reason had been that Obi-Wan, in the end, had been found wanting somehow, had proven to be less than he should have been, then it only meant that the final severing of their bond would be that much less agonizing for the Master. Obi-Wan knew now - indeed had always known - how fortunate he had been in being apprenticed to this most gifted and forceful of the Jedi Masters. He realized that his association with Qui-Gon had made a substantial difference in the affairs of the Republic; that his pairing with his Master had been a benefit to the knighthood and the Temple and, hopefully, that he had given his Master a few moments of pride and a sense of some accomplishment along the way. But, finally, none of that seemed to matter much anyway. Because what he had to do now would matter most of all. If every action he had ever taken as a Jedi padawan had been completely futile and if he had never managed to live up to the ideal that Qui-Gon Jinn's padawan should have been, he could still make up for it now. All he had to do - to justify his entire existence - was to save the life of his Master, his teacher, the only father he had ever known.

Obi-Wan never even acknowledged that there was an alternative; he knew what he had to do. Very gently, he reached out through the Force and touched the bond that he had shared with his Master for more than half his life. When he found it still dark and silent, he didn't allow himself to mourn the loss of the conduit; instead he was grateful that his Master would get no inkling of what was in the Padawan's mind. He was even able to muster up a small smile when he remembered that Qui-Gon had sometimes been able to influence his thoughts - through the bond - without triggering his awareness, causing the padawan to accuse his mentor of "unwarranted sneakiness, or just plain nosiness" on those occasions when he had discovered what his Master had done. The young Jedi almost gasped as the memory reawakened the anguish of the severed bond, but he closed himself off from it almost immediately. Now was hardly the time for a stroll down Memory Lane.

With uncharacteristic churlishness, he almost sneered at himself. _So why not? You got something else to do?_

"Is this a private wake, or can anybody get in on the fun?"

Obi-Wan actually chuckled. Not only did he know that voice, but he had to admit that she had actually managed to sneak up on a Jedi apprentice.

He turned to face her. "You're not supposed to be able to do that," he said softly.

"Honey," she said, leaning forward to tap her finger against his chin, "I could have marched a jizz band through this room, and you wouldn't have heard it. So what's going on? 

"Oh, you know. Just the usual. Life - death - infinity."

She squeezed past him and plopped comfortably on the banquette that lined the alcove. "Um, sounds deep. And boring. Nothing better to think about?"

As she passed him, he was momentarily adrift in the scent of her fragrance, a light floral essence with just a trace of spice and, as she sat, he became acutely aware of the smallness of the alcove. Her skirts draped across his knees as he knelt by the portal. "I'm doing my best not to."

"Not to what?" she asked uncertainly.

"Think."

She allowed her gaze to drift out into the starscape. "Do Jedi allow themselves to be afraid?" she asked softly.

He smiled. "Only of blaster-packing Nabooian handmaidens."

She spread her hands wide, and managed to look marginally virginal. "I, Sir, come before you completely unarmed."

He laughed. "That'll be the day. You wouldn't be unarmed if you were bound and naked."

She winked. "What an interesting scenario! And I'm shocked that a Jedi would entertain such thoughts."

For some obscure reason that he would later question, he spun around and settled himself directly in front of her, leaving him in a position with her knees pressing lightly against his back. "I don't think you're shocked, about anything."

Her eyes widened. "Now you might just be wrong about that," she said, a speculative gleam in her eyes. "You seem to be in a bit of a mood. Prebattle jitters?"

He leaned forward and flexed his neck and shoulders and was somewhat surprised when he heard joints pop. "Jedi," he answered in his best sepulchral tones, "do not get jitters."

She laughed. "Or stiff necks, no doubt. But that's one problem I am the resident expert on solving. Lean back." Her hands, though small, were very strong and confident as she placed them on his shoulders and began to knead away the kinks and knots she sensed beneath the surface. "I thought," she huffed, almost grunting with the effort to ease the corded muscles, "that you guys were supposed to be immune to all these physical ailments that plague the rest of us, like coronary emboli or cerebral aneurisms - or cramped muscles. You keep on like this and you're going to stroke out."

"Unlikely," he said absently, his physical senses basking in the comfort dispensed by her hands. "Not enough time."

"What does that mean?" she laughed. "You don't have time to get sick?"

He turned to look up at her, and, for the briefest of moments, she saw something in his eyes that left her cold and frightened inside. "Exactly right," he said softly. "Too busy."

_But that's not what he meant._ She had no logical reason for the stir of panic within her, but it was there, just the same.

"So," she said brightly, suddenly desperate to change the subject, "tell me about these Jedi brothels."

He jerked forward and spun to confront her. "These _what_?"

_Oh, that was just great, Sabé. Real subtle._ She managed to laugh, somehow. "That's the rumor we've been hearing. Care to set the record straight?"

He looked completely bewildered. "I don't even know how to address that. What have you heard?"

"Um, uh, er, that, um, young Jedi receive, um, certain instructions, when they get to a, um, certain level of, um, sexual readiness."

"Ah," he replied, resisting an urge to grin, "you've been listening to gossip mongers."

"Well, maybe, but it did seem to make a certain amount of sense. I mean, we all get some form of sex education. Why not the Jedi?"

Anyone who knew Obi-Wan well would have recognized the flare of glee in his eyes as a prelude to some extremely intense leg-pulling, but Sabé didn't know him that well - yet. He leaned toward her and lowered his voice. "Well, okay, but this has to remain just between us. I mean, it's not something we can talk about very much, you know. I mean, people get really upset if they find out, um, I mean, if they think that there are initiation orgies, and padawan deflowering rituals, and sexual technique training and all that other stuff. It really only happens once in a while, you know, like every couple of years, just before the summer solstice, when the padawans have completed their muscular control training, and are ready to move on to more refined control programs. I mean, we really can't afford to put ourselves in a position in which we're not completely in control, can we? So, anyway, at those very special times, all the Jedi gather in the Temple gardens and read from some very ancient, sacred texts, and, when the initiates are brought in . . ." He looked up into her eyes, and saw suspicion there, along with a certain amount of credulity, "we all take off our clothes, howl at the moon, and drink the blood of sacrificial virgins."

"You bastard!" she fairly shrieked, and launched herself at him, catching him in a half-crouch so that he wound up spread-eagled on the floor, his arms pinned beneath her knees. "I ought to kick your worthless, lying, oh-so-condescending, little Jedi ass."

Obi-Wan was smothering with laughter, and realized that he hadn't felt so relaxed in days. _Amazing what knowing that your life is over will do for you_ , he thought, and collapsed in a fresh spate of laughter. 

"Stop laughing at me, or, so help me, Jedi or not, I'll crack your head on the floor," Sabé demanded, her fingers wrapped in his padawan braid.

"You can try," he gasped, still chuckling.

And try she did, only to discover that they were no longer lying on the floor, but hovering suspended several inches above it, and she was unable to gain any leverage to use against him. "Well, that's no kriffing fair," she complained. "Floating is definitely not on the list of approved methods for unarmed combat."

"It is for me," he answered, very reasonably. "Besides, you can get up if you want to. There's nothing stopping you."

But she grinned and settled herself more comfortably. "It's almost like zero g," she remarked. "And I bet it takes a lot of concentrated effort on your part."

He shook his head. "Not really. A Jedi child could do it."

Quickly, not allowing him any opportunity of evasion, she leaned forward and traced the line of his jaw with quick, light kisses. "A Jedi child, huh? Is that what you are? A Jedi child?'

His breath quickened. "Not recently."

Her fingers worked his padawan braid, as her mouth lingered on the cleft of his chin. She dragged her eyes away from his lips to peer deeply into eyes now the color of Rhulian sapphires. "There are lessons I could teach you, Jedi child."

He actually grinned and somehow reversed their positions, allowing her to settle gently to the deck beneath him. She was vaguely aware that something - and she was afraid it might even have been something that she was supposed to be wearing - flew across the small alcove and draped itself over the viewlens; at the same time, the door to the common room closed silently, and she heard the snap of a lock.

She drew a deep breath, and was overwhelmed with the fresh male smell of him; she smiled. "I think it's safe to assume you've done this before."

Obi-Wan caressed her hair, and nodded. In his mind's eye, he recalled his first instruction in the art of sex - which had, indeed, come from a wonderful, warm, and much experienced Jedi Master named Adi Gallia - and all the encounters which had happened since. All had been fulfilling; many had been sheer fun; but this one, he would allow to be different. In this one, he would hold nothing back. After all, there was no longer any reason to withhold any part of himself; there was no tomorrow.

As he leaned forward and claimed her mouth with his own, he also lowered the shields in that most primitive section of his mind, and reached for her presence in the Force as well.

Sabé jerked and pulled back to look up at him, some small nuance of fear in her eyes, as she recognized a potent presence in her consciousness that somehow formed a perfect counterpoint to the fire she sensed rising in his perfect body.

"Trust me," he whispered, as he cupped her face in his hands and adjusted his body to fit more exactly against hers, making her immediately aware of the intensity of his desire. He smiled. "I really can take you where you've never been before."

Sabé spent about a half second thinking about it, before answering him with a laugh. "I think I just found myself a new travel agent."

They laughed together, until their hands began an exploration of each other's bodies which, finally, squelched the laughter; at which point, they moved into unexplored territory, for both of them. Together, Jedi and handmaiden would chart new levels of stamina, heightened awareness, and previously unsuspected levels of delight. It was almost morning when a disheveled, flushed, bruised, but very satiated handmaiden made her way back to the queen's private quarters, leaving behind one disheveled, bruised, flushed and extremely happy padawan.

Unexpectedly (although Sabé instantly realized that she should have known), Amidala was awake, and stared at her bodyguard with a smile in her eyes.

"Well?" she whispered.

Sabé paused on her way to the fresher. "You know those brilliant moves they say he has?"

"Yes."

Sabé's grin was blinding. "Trust me - they don't know the half of it."

* * * * * * * * * * * *  
Elsewhere on the ship, a Jedi Master stared through a small porthole into the panorama of space, as he had throughout the night. He allowed himself a small smile. _Sleep now, my padawan. I think you've been sufficiently diverted. Sleep in peace._

_Humph!_ came the familiar grumpy voice, through his bond with his old master. _Once is a diversion. Three times is sheer indulgence._

Qui-Gon allowed his amusement to flow through the bond. _Shame on you for peeking, Master. There should be room for some indulgence in one so young. He's had far too little indulgence in his life. It's small enough comfort for what he'll have to go through later._

_You sense what he intends to do?_ It wasn't really a question but it had to be asked.

_Of course. I won't allow it._

Yoda had a specific sigh for every occasion. The one he allowed himself now was both a lament at the stubbornness of Qui-Gon's brave young padawan, and an acknowledgement of the apprentice's formidable skills. _Easy, he will not make it. And he approaches your own level of skill._

Qui-Gon smiled. _Approaches? He will soon surpass me, and I regret that I will not be here to savor his triumph at that time._

_Humph! A Jedi craves not such things._

_Oh, lighten up, Master. You've forgotten what it was to be young._

Another sigh. _His youth will soon be behind him._

Qui-Gon felt fresh tears spring to his eyes. _Yes, and we will have taken it from him. I have never questioned the will of the Force, Master, but I do not understand why such bitterness must befall one who has the purest spirit I have ever encountered._

To his surprise, the younger Jedi Master felt a physical sensation of comfort encircle him, and he marveled at the unplumbed depths of Master Yoda's abilities. _We are not given to understand everything, my padawan. But know that I would take this bitterness from both of you if I could. And I will see to it that you are able to reach out to him, through the Force. Find me - when the time comes - and I will find him. Be with you both, I will._

_Thank you, my Master. For everything._

_If gratitude is owed, it is mine. You have fulfilled every hope a Master could have for his padawan. Just as he will fill every hope you have for him. To the Force, I commend you, Child._

There was a brief sensation of what might have been a Force created hug, and Qui-Gon was suddenly alone, except for the faint link to his padawan which was now virtually awash in a weary aftermath of physical satisfaction.

Qui-Gon glanced at a chronometer and saw that they were still several hours away from their destination. _Sleep_. He sent the message through the bond with the most delicate of Force touches. _Sleep._

In his observation alcove, Obi-Wan was aware of nothing beyond the afterglow of his night's activities, and some small stirrings of conscience regarding how easily and eagerly he had discarded the precautionary standards which had previously ruled his life. He also retained sufficient awareness of the call of destiny to remind himself that he must make some gesture of reconciliation toward his master before the moment of truth came, or else Qui-Gon might be so overwhelmed with feelings of guilt and regret that he would be unable to recover from the loss of his padawan. But tomorrow would serve as well as today, and he was suddenly very sleepy. With one last glance at the swirl of stars beyond the canopy, and one dim thought of some quotation he had read once somewhere about being merry in the face of impending death, he settled his head against the plush seat cushion behind him and slept, peacefully, dreamlessly, deeply.

Qui-Gon Jinn closed his eyes, and savored the serenity of his apprentice's consciousness, and acknowledged - for perhaps the millionth time - that no Jedi Master could possibly deserve a padawan of such unsurpassing purity of spirit and generosity of soul.

The starship raced on through the darkness, en route to another of destiny's crossroads.

************************************************************  
The End


End file.
